While I'm sure that many exotic car owners are used to people photographing their cars, the same can`t be said for drivers of less exciting, average cars. This was the case last week in Shanghai when I saw a very clean VW Santana. I have written about the Santana before, the taxi of choice in Shanghai, and one of the only 'old' cars you ever see in China. Apparently a black Santana with tinted windows used to be the sign that you had 'made it', back in the 80s and early 90s, when car ownership in China was reserved for a select few.

The boxy, blocky design is my kind of thing to begin with, so the fact that it's really the only pre-2000s car on the roads in Shanghai makes it even more interesting to me. The wagon model is quite rare, but there are still a few of the original sedans, though in many cases they are in pretty rough shape and on their last legs.

Not this one! It caught my eye partly because it was silver, as 99% are either in colourful taxi garb, or black. This silver example was also extremely clean, with no dents or rust that I could see. I figured it deserved a little photo shoot, and I started snapping pictures.

As soon as I started, a man came over and called out. He had a troubled look on his face, certainly wondered why some foreign guy was taking pictures of his old VW. I tried to reassure him that I liked his car with a universal 'thumbs up'. Using my very limited vocabulary, I tried to explain that I really liked his car. He pointed to nicer new cars going by, and I told him I didn't like those. I preferred his. He slowly seemed to believe me, and I started to tell him that my father used to repair cars.

Unfortunately, I was only a few words into my sentence when I realized I didn't know how to say 'repair'. Without this verb I wasn't going to be able to complete my thought, so I did my best 'Charades' impression and pretended to fix his headlight. He came running over to see what I was doing, apparently worried I was trying to steal a piece of his car!

Since complicated past-tense stories of my childhood were proving too complex, I motioned for him to open the hood. He slowly, reluctantly did, and I used my thumbs up again to show him I liked the view. He simply shook his head, probably wondering if he was on a 'Candid Camera' show. A few other people walked by and were fascinated at a foreign guy peeking under the hood of the car, while the owner chuckled.

In the end I'm pretty sure he saw that my interest was genuine, and that I wasn't poking fun. As tempted as I was, I knew that asking for a ride would almost certainly be mistaken as a carjacking attempt, so I simply asked if I could take his picture. The gentleman's smile seems genuine, so I hope he left knowing that I got a real kick out of seeing his car. If nothing else he got to go home and tell his family about his interaction with a crazy 'lao wai', the name used for foreigners in China. I know that if someday I can score a super Santana like this, that I'd love nothing more than the compliments of random strangers in the street!

Kind of reminds me of when I got my Consul Capri in the 80s, occasionally on a nice day I would go to work in it, not trusting the idiots I worked with to not scratch my paintwork I parked it on the road opposite the factory, in front of a row of old terraced houses, think Corronation Street but with very small front gardens. First time as I walk back to the car I see the old boy occupier of the house waiting to talk to me, I am thinking 'here we go, don't park outside my house' will be coming, but no, he asks age of car and what engine? So next time I took it to work I parked in the same place, same thing, finish work/more questions. Eventually I found out that when I parked there he would sit out all day because people would stop and talk to him, asking questions about the car, instead of just walking by with a smile and nod.